Miscellaneous Mafia Business
by numarg
Summary: Lovino Vargas is an infamous mafia don, feared by all! Except for everyone outside of Italy. The Black Market is interested in making money by selling everything they get their hands on; including "live wares". Rated M for Lovi's mouth and future actions.
1. Chapter 1

**ahh hello good readers~ this is my first hetalia(and most likely only) fiction. i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoy writing it ^^ and i'm sorry if i made mistakes, i've been rereading the documents on my computer but i can't be 100% positive it's perfect. and all translations would be from google translate .w.; i'm only learning spanish so if anyone notices mistakes, please tell me. i'm still working on a title, but until i manage to find a decent one(suggestions are welcome~) it shall be called..._Miscellaneous Mafia Business_!**

**All characters co. to APHetalia and it's creators, I own nothing except the story**

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><p>"Mornin', Feli. Gimme a coffee will ya?" I shrugged off my<em> expensive<em> over coat and rested it on the back of the stool I took a seat at. Ugh, I'm tired as shit. Worked a late night. Doing what? You don't necessarily need to know. Nothin' important... Name's Lovino Vargas, Italian mafia don.

Shit, why'd I just tell you that? Damnit...

"Ve~ No problem, fratello!"

Ladies and gentlemen, my younger brother; Feli. Yes, thats his name. No, not his _full_ name. And no, you don't need to know his full name. That would jepordize his safety.

...Not that I care or anything, 'cause that would be stupid. Even though, me telling you _my_ name was pretty damn dense. Let alone my area of work.

"Grazie, how's business? Oh, and make it three sugars, per favore?" Yes, I know how to make small talk with my stupid younger brother. Shut up.

"Ve~ Pretty nice, Elizibeta called yesterday. She and Roderich are expecting! Isn't that great?" I nodded half heartedly and watched Feli expertly balance two large trays full of breakfast like food on his forearms and carry- scratch that- dance to his waiting customers. It's fucking _nine in the morning_ and he can prance around like that?

Fucking fairy... If we weren't identical I would swear on my mother's grave he was adopted.

"So do you think it will be a boy or a girl? Vee~ I hope its a boy so we can teach him boy stuff!" I rolled my eyes at him, he just kept on chatting away and inserting his weird, trade mark 've~' every so often. The subject didn't do much for me. Roderich and I aren't on the best of terms, he is such a pansy ass! I swear its Elizibeta who wears the pants _and_ picks the color. But I like Elizibeta, she was a good friend of mine and Feli's father. I think she worked for him at some point... Eh who gives a shit, amirite?

Done with serving his customers, Feli raced back behind the counter and set up the coffee machine. Not sure if you've noticed, but Feli here own's the best damn diner Italia has to offer. So suck it. Ha.

"Yeah, next time she calls tell her I said congrats. So is she carrying the baby or is Roderich?" I used my extra sarcastic tone so Feli would know I was joking. But I like making fun of that pansy. Feli turned around and frowned at me. Its so weird having him frown... Especially at me! He smiles **all the time**, its like the freaking apocolypse when he's not smiling.

I'm pretty sure I winced when I saw his face.

"Lovi, thats not very nice of you. Ve~," then his face lit up like a freaking high voltage lightbulb. And since he knew I was just kidding I shrugged it off, rested my elbows on the glossy counter top, and yawned. Feli's smile dimmed just a smidgen.

"Working late again, fratello?" The worry was visible in his voice... Shut up! Emotions can be visible in sounds... Shit, gimme a break, will ya?

With an over dramatic sigh of exasperation I nodded and gave Feli my most serious stare, "Its not that bad, don't flip shit over something small. Just got some news and had to check it out. Thats all."

"Ve~ What kind of news?" He lowered his voice and leaned across the counter when he asked. Feli was in on the whole mafia thing, he just chose to be a simple diner owner instead. He could be serious when he wanted to be.

Which wasn't often. But I digress.

I lowered my voice too, "Just some news about the black marketers coming in from the West. They've been looking all over Europe looking for something, we don't know what though. If things get out of hand when they pay us a visit, we need to have insurance that they'll leave Italia unscathed."

Yeah, that's right. The black market guys from next door have been looting and auctioning anything they can, but on the side they've been asking questions about something. What exactly? We haven't figured that out... _yet_, but we will. I've got eyes all over Italia, Elizibeta and Roderich are my eyes in Austria but does distance really matter? Some crazy shit goes on over there.

Feli looked around his diner for a second, then looked back to me. He pulled on his thinking face, that one face he makes when he's trying to remember the info he collected on something. Even Feli was one of my eyes, but... he was more like an ear... What the fuck ever, okay?

Once he got what he was trying to get, he stared me straight in the eyes and lowered his voice to a whisper,"Oh... Ve~ Fratello, be careful, si? I hear the Black Market business is ruthelss and unnecessarily violent. The highest man is a bit deranged, has a drinking problem and claims he can see 'fairies'."

I nodded seriously and gave Feli a pat on the shoulder, but that didn't stop me from chuckling, "Pffth, 'fairies'? The man's on drugs."

Feli giggled a bit and turned back to the coffee machine, "Ve~ It is kind of funny, si?"

"Si, fratello. Ah I'll be right back, bathroom's on the left?" I stood up and rubbed the back of my neck while making my way to the thin wooden door left of the register on the counter.

"Ve~ yep it is. And your coffee is ready~" I watched him put the white mug of steaming liquid of life in front of my seat.

I nodded at him and continued to the restroom. Thank _God_ Feli was a neat freak, his diner probably had the cleanest facilities in the world.

Standing in front of the mirror, I took a nice gander at myself. Wow, I even /look/ like shit. Well... not really, I'm probably the best looking individual in the entire diner, save for Feli 'cause we're Vargas', but for me I'm at an all time low. My hair is a mess!

A few swipes with wet fingers later and I look brand new again. Damn I'm good.

Just one last once over and then I'm on my way back to my coffee and chatting with Feli.

I think I just heard the bell on the door ring.

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><p><strong>:D yay chapter one~ so what'd you guys think? not <em>that<em> bad right? well... it's your opinions, not mine, that count. i appreciate every type of feedback because that means you either enjoy my work or care about my skills(or lack there of).**

**i'm sorry for the _italics_ abuse, lovino puts a lot of emphasis on a lot of words when i write him ^^; btw: he's incredibly fun to write!**

**silly translations you all most likely know:**

**fratello- brother in Italian**

**si- yes in italian(and spanish ;D)**


	2. Chapter 2

**yay another chapter! i'm sorry for any mistakes i may have overlooked, reviews regarding such are very much appreciated c: and i'll apologized now for abuse of bold and _italitcs_**

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><p>On my way out of the bathroom I hear a rather nasty slam. What the hell's going on out there?<p>

Turning to face the counter I see a blond guy in a casual suit with **my** little brother face down on the counter with his arm behind his back. The only word close enough to what hit me right at that moment was fucking **rage**.

"Hey fuckhead! Let go of him." I could feel myself tense, ready to spring if I needed to. My face was hot with burning anger and over protectiveness. That's my brother being manhandled! What the fuck did you expect?

He slowly -_leisurely,_ that bastard- turned his head to look at me, not once moving away from Feli.

Jesus his eyebrows were _massive_... I caught myself staring at them and glared at the man. He raised an -freaking enormous- eyebrow at me.

"Twins? That's unexpected but rather welcome." He grinned a toothy grin. I felt chills run up and down my spine.

Before I could lose the sudden courage and adrenaline boost I snarled, "I said: Let. Him. The fuck. Go. Stronzo."

His grin grew larger, narrowing his eyes he sniggered at me, "Oh yeah? And who's gonna do what if I don't? I just might break his arm if I very well felt like it, yeah?"

I took a step foward, hoping to look intimadating. Which was apparently not working 'cause Eyebrows over there raised his other face caterpillar. My freaking glare can burn out the freaking _sun_ if I wanted it to! This guy had balls of steel if it only interested him!

"Oh, yer gonna act all tough now, aint'cha mister Italiano? Awright then, bring it!" He released my, now quivering, brother. Feli dashed behind the counter immediately and ran to the kitchen. It was then I noticed that all the customers that were in the diner when I first came left.

Fuck, I was alone with Brow-zilla.

He stood up straighter and made a "come at me" gesture. I seethed and reached into my vest. I had a knife on me always, guns too but they were in my over coat.

My over coat was resting on my chair.

My chair was next to the brother-beater.

"Oh-ho-ho, gonna use items, ey? What you got up yer sleeve boy?" He folded his arms and just gazed lazily. I felt like fucking piece of meat on display for sale.

Fuck, that was a bit harsh for my ego.

"Wouldn't you like to know, eyebrows?" I sneered at him. Heh, I could see him tense at my name for him. His eyebrow tiwtched in annoyance as I pulled out the knife and twirled it in my hand, like a fucking BOSS. This seemed to interest him futher. His face kinda looked like a mask of contemplation.

Yeah I know big words, fuck you guys.

"Pretty well handled with a blade, boy? You ain't gonna cut yerself now are ye?" He got over his slight admiration of my fucking skills and smirked at me.

I could feel my lips form a snarl, "Vaffanculo, figlio de puttana! 'The fuck are you anyway, coming in here and beating on a diner owner? You got something against good food?"

His laughter was more like a harsh cough or a bark, "I'm not very fluent in Italian, but no. I haven't gotten anything against _good_ food. Italian cuisine I don't care for though."

My anger hit boiling point and I just lost it. No one disses Italian food and gets away with it, fuck no!

Roaring, I threw myself at the guy. Apparently he had a piece too 'cause felt a cut form on my right forearm. And all the while, that bastardo was laughing.

"Brutto bastardo! Ti uccider per toccare mio fratello e il male mettere in bocca il nostro cibo!"

"I'm not quite positive what you said, but I sure as hell find it amusing. Keep it coming, boy!"

I found myself with my back to him and his arms were closing in and the position his dirty switchblade was in slightly sent me into a panic. With reflexes that would make a cat fucking green with envy, I rammed my elbow back and up into the fucker's ribs. Which in turn made him drop his knife, I think it slid across the floor under the counter.

He howled with pain, but that didn't stop him from locking one arm to my chest- the one holding the fucking knife!- and pinning the other one at an uncomfortable angle between my back and his chest.

With a loud grunt, he shoved us foward and tripped me. Landing on my front fucking hurt like a bitch, I'll tell you that right now!

I gasped and wheezed, getting the breath knocked out of me. He just chuckled darkly in my ear. I couldn't help but fight the shiver that his breath so close to me caused. He didn't stand up or anything, just pretty much laid on top of me, we were about the same height but his build was slightly more muscular. I was effectively fucking trapped.

Well fuck!

"Not bad, Mr. Italiano, not bad at all. I wonder how much a mafioso will get me in Russia. I'm not even that mad you lost me my brother's knife." His words oozed with foul intentions.

I froze, 'cause I was trying to break my arms free. Russia? Fucking _Russia_? Are you kidding me? Those bastards are crazy! I'll be a piece of stuffed furniture if I'm sold in Russia, of all places!

Wait...

Mafioso...?

I coughed then growled as best I could, "How the fuck do you know that, stronzo? What do you want from me?" I couldn't quite turn my head, so I just glared at him from the corner of my eye.

He leaned in closer to me, so close his face was brushing against mine. I felt myself tense again. This guy was way too close for comfort but there wasn't much I could do about that, now was there?

"I know about you, Italian mafia don, because I know everything. You having a twin though was an exception. But in my field of work, I _need_ to know everything. It's in my best interests. And as for what I want from you? Postively nothing you have to offer. Oh no, I just want _you_." He lowered his voice so that I was the only person to hear him. Yeah I know that the room was empty but he still whispered it to me.

And that fucking creeped me out even more than what he said to me.

I began struggling again, "You're fucking out of your mind! Let me the fuck go, I'm not a piece of property!"

He chuckled deep in his throat and whistled.

A second later three guys barged in through the glass, front door. One was pretty tall and almost obnoxiously blond. Fuck he was American, I'm doomed.

His hair was the only thing I could actually take in, noting my current situation. What he was wearing was the last thing on my mind... Okay maybe that's a small lie because I'm Italian and style just happens to be very freaking important... I'm rambling and not helping my position at all.

The other was a shorter male with black hair and an oriental face, the last was slightly taller than him with long brown hair pulled off to the side in a ponytail. He was oriental too.

"You called, Iggy?" The American chirped.

Yes, you heard me: chirped. Three words and I hate how annoying he is already...

The man on my back bristled like an angry cat and hissed(like an angry cat), "Alfred, shut the bloody hell up! We got what we came for, now take him to the ship so we can get out of here!"

'Alfred' nodded to the long haird Asian, he came over to me and 'Iggy' (Seriously though? What the fuck?) reaching into his overly long sleeves. The brit- whom I've finally found out what that annoying accent was and it is most definitely a tea-chugging pansy- sat up as he neared.

I took this oppurtunity to launch myself up using one arm (it's a damn shame that I had to drop my knife to do that 'cause I'm not a fan of self mutilation) and swinging the one held captive behind me; effectively smacking the brit in the face and making him fall on his ass!

Ha! But my freedom was short lived as I came face to face with the _**fucking edge of a sword**_, who the fuck even uses swords anymore? I stopped myself before I poked my eye out with the damn thing and looked up at the wielder.

The dark haired Asian, his face was blank but serious. I could hear 'Alfred' in the background laughing at Mr. Eyebrows.

Steadily I leaned back, his blade followed my every move, damnit! Without warning, a hand grabbed at my hair harshly and yanked my head back.

"Ow! Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wro-" The blade was at my throat again. I heard the british man hiss in my ear.

"That was fucking cheap, you know that? Whether you like it or not, you're coming with us and you will fucking behave or else."

His hold in my haird was tightening but I refused to cave, I don't give a shit what he wants. I'm a fucking don!

I spit in the direction my head was positioned and ground out, "You can't make me go anywhere, let me go now and I won't have my people skewer you all and use you as target practice."

I heard that American guy whisper to the long haird one. Something along the line's of "Damn, that was dark."

Good, maybe if I scare them they'll leave me alone. But my threats were in vain. Eyebrows just laughed at me and threw me at the long haired man's feet.

And before I had the chance to get up he kicked me square in the ribs, I gasped in pain. Pointed-leather shoes; not _that_ tacky. I probably should be more focused on curling into a ball.

Un-fucking-believable! He kept kicking at me until I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

No! I refuse to cry in front of this assclown! But he just kept going and going... Fuck this hurt **bad**. My ribs are in the worst pain I've ever been in and my gut went numb just a few seconds ago. Is that normal? I had to fight down the urge to vomit all over my assaultant's shoes. I could feel the skin splitting where he kept kicking and a bit of blood dribble out the side of my mouth... Or was that saliva? I'll just stick to the blood idea... Oh great, I'm a human vent bag. I bet I'll be spotted like a freaking leopard with bruises and lacerations.

Strangely, I lost track of how long he'd been kicking me. In the haze of my pain I wondered where Feli was and if he got out. He ran to the kitchen, there's a back door but it's usually locked. Is he okay? Did any more of Eyebrow's men come with him? Did they get Feli? What if...

Everything dulled and fogged up. I couldn't see straight.

I heard mumbles in the room and felt my arms being moved behind my back. I felt something like metal bracelets being snapped onto my wrists a bit too tightly.

How odd... why put me in bracelets...? I feel so numb...

I think one of them is picking me up 'cause I can no longer feel the floor of Feli's diner. I'm in the air, what the fuck?

I can't see the red tiles of the counter now, we must be outside... It's overcast today. Wait... What's that tiny little light?

Why is it getting bigger? How did it get so huge? Is it moving?

That's weird... It looks like it's coming from Feli's...

Diner...

...

No...

...

I passed out before I could tell anything else.

I'll never forgive these bastards for what they've done.

_**Never**_.

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><p><strong>end of chapter two c: i'm not too awesome at writing fighting scenes ^^; but i hope you get the gist of it. i'm trying to broadcast lovino'sromano's emotions but i'm not sure if it's working :/ suggestions and crit is always appreciated **

**translations as translated by shizzy google translate~**

**stronzo- equivalent to asshole in Italian**

**bastardo- bastard in Italian**

** Brutto bastardo! Ti uccider per toccare mio fratello e il male mettere in bocca il nostro cibo!- You fucking bastard! I'll kill you for touching my brother and bad mouthing our food! in Italian**


	3. Chapter 3

**chapter threeeeeee~ :U casual apology: sorry for abuse of bold and/or _italics_. another author's note on the bottom c:**

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><p>Okay...<p>

_Where the **fuck** am I?_

I tried to sit up to get a better look of my surroundings when the giagantic wave of nasuea hits me. **Hard**.

Groaning, I flop onto my back and something relatively soft. Weird, I must be on a mattress. I reopened my eyes (which I screwed shut when I felt I was going to upchuck) and turned my head to look at what I was currently laying on. Noting along the way I was still in the clothes I had worn at Feli's diner subtract my over coat. I was right though, it is a mattress.

Albeit; a fucking dirty as hell mattress, but a mattress nonetheless. At least it's not the floor, damnit.

Bringing my (uncuffed, _awesome_) hands up to my face to wipe the crusty shit out of my eyes (shut the fuck up; it happens to everyone!) I notice how pasty my cheeks feel. Oh yeah... I was being beat to a friggin' pulp last time I was conscious, which led to many tears... Wow that must have been pretty lame of me. I could feel my testosterone levels dropping with each passing second.

Ugh.

I try sitting up again, _much more slowly_. So far so good, I blink a few times and look around.

You've got to be_ kidding me_. A fucking holding cell? To my left is pretty much bars, like a prison cell. I'm laying on a very simple and sheetless mattress with what looks like blood stains. _Lovely_. The frame of the bed is made up of simple metal pipes that are bolted to the sheeted metal floor. Walls are sheeted metal too. There's no windows, sink or toilet. I can see, though, on the other side of the bars a wooden chair and an end table with a few magazines and an ashtray on it. And to add to the lovely atmosphere; everything is painted white. It's _much_ easier to see the blood splatters and (what I _hope to God almighty_ isn't) vomit.

I suddenly feel sick to my stomach again and feel the need to throw up. Gasping, I bring my hands up to my mouth and try to fight down the sour tasting remains of my last meal(which was maybe over 12 hours ago give or take). Why am I so nasueas? And as if to answer my question; I'm thrown to the wall.

_**Oh my fucking God the room is tilting.**_

Am I on a fucking boat? No, no, no, no I can't be!

Okay, okay Lovino, deep breaths. Calm down, being upset never helped anyone. I remembered the advice a friend of mine once gave me. Deep breaths in and slow breaths out. S'shame I can never remember his name or where he's from. The guy was almost invisible and a bit of a pussy, but he was my best friend.

I think...

Calm now, I deduct that yes: I am on a boat, I don't know how big though and I don't know where I'm going or who's taking me there. I'm in deep shit as far as I'm concerned. I'm also starting to feel the ache in my chest and gut now.

Unabashedly I start removing my silk, black button-up shirt. It's kinda sticky so that means I've bled a decent amount.

Or it means I pissed myself when unconscious. Fuuuuuck my life. Is it-?

Oh thank God!

It's just blood.

Yeah it's sad ,even to me, that I'm relieved. Gingerly, I trace the cuts that Eyebrows' pointed-leather shoes left on my torso. I was covered in black and blue. An occasional green or yellow too. The cuts themselves aren't that bad, they sting a bit but I've been through much worse. Hell, you shoulda seen my back when I would get in trouble with my grandfather.

I'm in the middle of deciding whether or not to try yelling for someone or something when I hear a door creak open. It was fucking loud and screechy as all hell, ugh.

"Mornin' sunshine!~ You awake yet? Well if not then I guess I'll just wake... you... up..." Oh great it was 'Alfred' the American. I gave him an annoyed look as he stopped in front of my little holding cell. He had the most surprised and/or confused expression.

"What do you want, fucktard? Never seen a guy shirtless before?" I snapped at him. He didn't come off as a major threat to me at the time, just freaking annoying as hell.

He shrugged, recovering, and sat on the wooden chair. Then he didn't say anything. Just _stared_.

And while he stared, I glared, challenging him to say anything. And now that my life was not in immediate danger I had time to appraise one of my captors. First thing I noticed were the glasses resting atop his nose, maybe he's far-sighted. Then his bright blue eyes. Then his clothes.

Fucking hell, he had tacky taste. Worn out, brown bomber jacket, dark grey work jeans, plain tight black t-shirt( from what I could see anyway), and plain brown boots. He must do manual labor 'cause he definitely isn't cut out for interacting with other people. Jesus. I must have been scowling at him or something 'cause he narrowed his eyes.

"You got something ta' say, shrimp? I think I look fine." His voice had lowered to a slight growl. Okay... he has potential to be fucking creepy.

But I sure as hell didn't show him I was slightly wary of him, "I have nothing to say... Okay that's a lie. Where the fuck am I?"

His glare only lessened a bit, he hummed in regard. I guess he was a lackey if he couldn't speak freely.

"You're with the British Black Marketers. Of course not all of us are British, some of us enjoy food not burned to charcoal," he snorted in good humor, "You'll be with us for awhile, Mr. 'Romano Italy'." Now he had this apathetic look.

And for once in my life; I didn't glare. If this guy had a sense of humor then he wasn't _all_ bad. Yeah he was still pretty bad, but I doubt he'd kill without reason. So... just don't give him a reason. 'Cause now I'm noticing how built the guy is.

There goes more of my testosterone. Even if I had a decent set of muscles, they were shit compared to the size of the guy in front of me.

Now I feel I should start a conversation to get a bit of info, "Okay... but _where_ am I? On a boat, or something?"

Contemplating whether or not to answer again, he shrugs seeing no harm and answers casually, "Yeah, you're on a ship on the Mediterranean. We'll be docking in Spain in a few days."

"Okay... Now uh... Who was bushy brows? Fucking stronzo did this to me, didn't he?" I motioned to my chest and blondie examined the wounds with interest.

He let out an appreciative whistle, for the damage or myself I'm not sure. Probably both 'cause I am dead sexy, tch!

"I had no idea Arthur had it in him to beat someone less equipped. Heh, that hit you got on him was decent enough though. Nice job, Mr. 'Romano'. I'm Alfred F. Jones, American hero! And the British guy who kicked your ass was Arthur Kirkland; the president of the British faction of the Black Market business."

I huffed a bit, bastard said I was less 'equipped' than carpet face? Oh well, he just surprised me is all. But then after registering what he said I snorted, "Well you can just call me 'Romano Italy' if you must. So what kind of hero lets an innocent man get the shit beat out of him then helps the attacker with kidnapping?"

He let out a loud and hearty laugh, like I just told him some fucking hilarious joke or something.

"You're not innocent, Mr. Romano. You're a flipping mafia don! We've got quite a lot of stories about you guys in America. I doubt many of them are wrong and the shit you guys do is ridiculous. As for helping Arthur; he's a childhood friend." His grin was really white... Wow... Fucking magazine cover boy we got here.

"Vaffanculo, stronzo. The way I run my mafia isn't that bad. We just do what we have to in order to keep everything stable. That's all. And if you don't like our methods; go fuck yourself." And to punctuate the sentence I flipped him the bird.

He just smirked in response and continued to stare. It was creepy... I'm not quite used to having people give me the "eye" 'cause usually I'm only ever seen yelling at Feli or beating the shit out of someone who owes me money. I'm not sure whether to be flattered or scared for my purity.

I used to live very near Roma with my overly religious grandfather, I'm Catholic duh.

Yes Catholics can be mafia dons, shut the fuck up.

And if you want the dead truth, I'm a fucking coward. Yeah I'm a bad ass mafia don, but I usually have at least 2 big guys next to me with loaded guns and a gun on my person as well. But right now; I'm alone with no weapons on me. I have no idea how much damage this 'Alfred' character can do to me if provoked. And I'm trying **very** hard not to let my mouth run wild with insults and taunts. I'm also trying to control my fight or flight switch. I don't want to seem vulnerable 'cause I'm shaking and sweating like a motherfucker. Keeping my voice steady and loud is hard to do too...

"What do you guys want from me? 'Arthur' didn't really give me a clear answer." It's taking everything in my power not to fidget.

'Cause I'm scared as hell.

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><p><strong>m'kay chapter 3 end. when i wrote this i didn't want to end the chapter like this but i was too tired to keep writing. this will be the last chapter for awhile until i manage to write more, i'm caught up in a different fandom as of now ^^; i'm very sorry. but if i made mistakes or maybe i could add something please tell me.<strong>

**translations from google translator~**

**vaffanculo, stronzo- pretty much fuck off, asshole in Italian**

**stronzo- asshole**


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